


Your Life Inked On Your Skin

by serenbach



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, Magical Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 06:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9165610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenbach/pseuds/serenbach
Summary: Bilbo doesn't think he can really be blamed for not noticing that the tattoos on Thorin's skin could move and change.After all, he had been distracted every time he had seen him shirtless.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [issaro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/issaro/gifts).



> Issaro requested animated tattoos that tell stories like the ones in Moana (which I haven't actually seen yet so no spoilers please!), but I loved the idea of tattoos that tell a story so I hope you enjoy this interpretation!

The first time Bilbo caught sight of Thorin's tattoos, he was too embarrassed to really take in any details.

They were sat in the sunshine outside of Beorn’s house, and Oin had chided him into removing his furs and armour so that he could examine the damage that the great white warg had done to him.

Bilbo was sat only a small distance away, and from the corner of his eyes he saw an intriguing glimpse of a muscular chest, a thatch of hair, what looked like metal bars in his nipples, and thick, dark lines of ink, coiling down his arms, over his shoulders down to his back, and on his chest.

He also saw the mottled discolouration of bruising as well, however, and turned his head away guiltily while Oin examined him.

He was a little too interested in Thorin’s body, truth be told, and it was unseemly to stare so at what he had not been invited to look at. Thorin had been much friendlier since they had escaped the goblin tunnels but that didn’t mean that he would appreciate Bilbo _ogling_ him like a bad-mannered tween.

Still, the image was slow to fade from his mind.

\---

The second time Bilbo saw Thorin’s tattoos he sadly had no real opportunity to study them.   

For one thing, their room in Lake-town, once the door was locked and the windows shuttered, was dark and while the dim and guttering candle may have provided enough light for dwarven eyes, to his hobbit ones the room was too far too shadowy to see clearly.

In truth, Thorin’s tattoos were not the most immediate thing on his mind - his attention was far more focused on his hands and his mouth, and the feel of their skin sliding slickly together, and by the time they were resting breathlessly side-by-side the candle had died entirely.

But there had also been something frantic and desperate in their touch, a knowledge that their first time could so easily be their last. An understanding that this beautiful, strange, unexpected thing that had grown between them could be so easily lost was something that precluded a gentle and leisurely exploration of each other’s bodies.

Before Bilbo joined Thorin in sleep, he vowed to himself that there _would_ be time. He would get Thorin alone, somewhere safe and bright, and he would trace the lines of his tattoos as he learned Thorin’s body as thoroughly as he knew his own.

He would make sure of it.

\---

While it would seem that Bilbo would have plenty of time to study Thorin’s tattoos while he was unconscious in the healing tents, Bilbo was not focused on them at all. His whole attention was on the shallow rise and fall of Thorin’s bruised and bandaged chest, and the weak flutter of the pulse in his wrist as Bilbo rested his fingers over it.

If he wasn’t in the healing tents, he was running errands for Balin or Oin, or speaking to Bard or Dain or Thranduil about various matters (he still wasn’t sure why they were so keen to seek out the opinion of the tagalong hobbit, but they would still search him out and speak to him), or checking on Fili and Kili and making sure that they weren’t straining themselves too much, or sharing a meal with the Company, but after a little while he would always make his way back to Thorin’s side.

He needed to wake up for his nephews, his Company and his kingdom.

He needed to wake up, so Bilbo could apologise properly.

He needed to wake up, because Bilbo could not picture a world in which he did not.

So if he did happen to absently notice that maybe a line of his tattoo was in a different place than he had originally thought, it was easy enough to dismiss that observation as a result of stress, or exhaustion, or the lingering effects of his head wound. It was forgotten anyway the moment that Thorin’s breathing faltered.

\---

It took time for Thorin’s body to heal, and longer still for his living quarters in Erebor to be inhabitable, but the moment they were both in a fit state, he and Thorin took the afternoon off and barred the door to their room, firmly locking out both worried advisors and nosy friends and relatives.

It had been _months_ since they had last been alone together like this. While their relationship had been mended as soon Thorin had awoken and clasped Bilbo’s hand as he dozed beside him, they had not had the time, or the space, or the _energy_ for anything more.

But now, between eager, hungry kisses, they stripped each other of their clothes, and Thorin easily stepped back towards the bed when Bilbo pushed his shoulders. When he hit the edge of the bed, he sat and pulled Bilbo into his lap.

Bilbo put his hands on Thorin’s shoulders, preparing to swoop in and kiss him, when he noticed that the tattoos on Thorin’s arms, which had been in a very intricate, angled, dwarven design _flowed_ under his touch into a new pattern, coils and loops that were looser and freer than the previous style, almost but not quite floral in design.

“Thorin,” Bilbo gasped, dodging away from Thorin’s mouth to look closer. “Your tattoos just…”

“Yes,” Thorin replied, looking both smug and amused . “I had wondered how long it would take you to notice.”

“Forgive me if my attention has been elsewhere,” Bilbo said snippily, running his fingers along the design. They weren’t raised, or hot, or anything else that indicated that they had just done the impossible and moved. They just felt like part of his skin, as if they had always been there.

“I think that I should be flattered,” Thorin rumbled, still amused, and drew Bilbo’s mouth to his for a kiss. As lovely as that was, though, Bilbo couldn’t be distracted for long.

“But how?” he asked, as soon they drew away for breath. “Do all dwarves have tattoos like that?” It wasn’t what he thought they would be doing the first time they were naked together in privacy and safety, but he was _fascinated_.

Thorin stroked his face, one finger stroking up to the tip of his ear (and even that wasn’t enough to distract him). “Dwarves are not like men or elves,” he began, his voice husky, though he seemed content to explain, and happy with Bilbo’s interest. “We were made by Mahal - who the elves call Aule - not Eru himself. When Mahal made the first fathers of the dwarves, they were not truly _alive._ They moved only in response to Mahal’s instructions, whether spoken, or written on their skin.”

“Oh,” Bilbo breathed in amazement, tracing the tattoos again, more reverently. “What happened then?” he asked softly.

“Eru sanctified Mahal’s work,” Thorin told him, “and the first fathers of the dwarves lived, though they did not wake for many long years. But when they did, they found that the ink that Mahal had written on them with was still on their bodies, but it was no longer an instruction, and it moved and changed as each dwarf lived their own life freely.”

“That’s amazing,” Bilbo said, his eyes wide. “So every dwarf…”

Thorin nodded. “Yes. Some things happen in our lives that mark us permanently, so those designs never change.” Bilbo touched the design over his heart, one that was clearly Erebor, and Thorin nodded, covering Bilbo’s hand with his own. “But there will always be enough of the Maker’s ink on our bodies to write our own stories.”         

“So why did your tattoos change just then?” Bilbo asked curiously.

“Because I’m in love,” Thorin told him, his voice warm and tender. “And because I’m _happy_.”

And what was a hobbit supposed to do in reply to that other than kiss him?

Later, as Bilbo traced the new lines on his skin, he reflected that he might never get to memorise all of Thorin’s tattoos, and that was a good thing, because they had a lifetime’s worth of stories to live together, and he would never get tired of reading them on Thorin's skin.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for pinch hitting, [issaro!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/issaro)


End file.
